


The Wind

by verity



Category: Star of the Guardians
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-05
Updated: 2002-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Oha-Lau in the temple of moonrinth, Maigrey ponders her feelings about Sagan's imminent arrival... (songfic to PJ Harvey's "The Wind")</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: Lyrics copyright 1998 by PJ Harvey - used without permission. Characters and situations belong to Margaret Weis - not me._

_Disclaimer: Lyrics copyright 1998 by PJ Harvey - used without permission. Characters and situations belong to Margaret Weis - not me._

** The Wind **

_Catherine liked high places  
High up, high up on the hills  
A place for making noises  
Like whales  
Noises like the whales  
Here she built a chapel  
With her image  
Her image on the wall  
A place where she could rest and rest  
And a place where she could wash  
And listen to the wind blowing_

And listen to the wind blow  
And listen to the wind  
And listen to the wind blow

The temple rose up from the ground, its starlit child, glittering in the light of the moon. Her dress of white linen flowed about her ankles.

She had come to this place for no earthly reason she could name, that first time - only she knew that she was drawn to it. Sanctuary, she had thought, a thought more befitting her other half than herself. Did she still think of him that way? No, no, she protested to herself seventeen years between them, now. But still outbalanced by the eighteen before.

It was a cool, breezy night; the wind a breath of air across her lips, the white, bare skin of her arms. Quick, a memory, skittering across the surface of her mind - other nights like this, other planets, maybe, she standing proud beside him, white arms lovely and pure.

No kisses in these memories but oh, how she'd dreamed of them - still dreamed of him. She'd never admit it, no - never admit him again to her heart after all the trespasses and crimes he'd committed. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned - a flash across her mind: Derek, knelt in prayer. He'd better pray, she resolved to herself. But she knew she could never strike him down, never be that cold of heart - or did she? - a memory there too, one she shoved down into the darkness of That Night. Better she never know.

Still an hour or so until they came

_She dreamt of children's voices  
And torture on the wheel  
Patron Saint of nothing  
A woman of the hills  
She once was a lady  
Of pleasure and high born  
A lady of the city  
But now she sits and moans_

And listens to the wind blow  
Listen to the wind blow

In the temple, her visions came most often - her visions of him, conquering some galaxy or other. Sometimes, she believed that from the day of her birth, a curse had been laid upon her - longsight was no blessing, and then, six years later, the mind-link She reminded herself that its severance had been her salvation. God only knew what Derek would have done if he had known she still lived, here

She looked up at the moon - how round and silvery at was, washing the color away from everything in the lush, desolate jungle. Years slipped from her and she felt the familiar ache in her stomach for home - but where was home now? The Glitter Palace was forsaken, surely; Platus was dead; and Semele's boy was somewhere out there in that endless field of stars

Stirrings in the back of her mind. They were getting closer.

_I see her in a chapel  
High up on the hill  
She must be so lonely  
Oh Mother can't we give  
A husband to our Catherine  
A handsome one, a dear  
A rich one for the lady  
Someone to listen with_

Some inner sense told her that he was almost to the temple; involuntarily, she shuddered. How could she survive this? Better off to have killed herself back in the hut. Better to die a cowardly death than to stand her, submerged in a flood of emotions that ranged from desire to murderous rage to, finally, a sort of soft involuntary longing. For he was her other half, no matter what side he was on, and she had never felt complete without him. Never, in all the years of darkness, barely illuminated by the white light of the moonrinth

"Lady Maigrey Morianna." The voice came from behind her; oh, how she knew that voice, even after seventeen long years She would not resist his call. Her other half, to love, to cherish

Or destroy.

_And listen to the wind blow  
And listen to the wind blow  
And listen to the wind blow  
And listen to the wind blow_


End file.
